The willow weeps and so do IThe birch, the oak, the pineBrought down from their stately vantage, no longer tall, no longer prime.It’s no One's fault. So who's to blame?The birds screech and the deer flee.The cottontail is dirty gray From smoke and ash and dust.The skyline is no more,The mountains lie beyond the haze.The field is near, I see only near. I blink – a raindrop?Merely a wet lashFrom breathes so hard to take,And sadness deep, for the lossOf land and life and memoriesOf beauty wide and spirits high.The willow weeps and so do I.

Just so you know, I had your poem included in our July newsletter.
I’ve attached it for your scrapbook.
See page 2.

Have already heard from folks who appreciated it.
(http://www.heichalbaoranim.org/newsletter.htm)

It’s all a bit eerie, for I wrote my “Fire” piece when the first big fire here was only 15% contained.

Since then the much worse one hit, killing 19 young Hotshots. Everyone either knows them or knows someone who knows them. Many young kids have lost their dads. Quite a few of the young widows are pregnant...
.....(those) who were evacuated from Yarnell—the heart of the fire-- get to return today.
What they’re returning to is unknown....